Comets on Fire

The five member San Francisco-based group sits down to discuss charges of mellowing,
the power of getting loaded, their critically lauded 2006 album
Avatar, and how they might not be as psychedelic as they're made out
to be.

The five member San Francisco-based group sits down to discuss charges of mellowing,
the power of getting loaded, their critically lauded 2006 album
Avatar, and how they might not be as psychedelic as they're made out
to be.

Pitchfork: Your music feels like something new is coming into being,
a tumultuous noise busting to the surface.

Ben Chasny: That's sort of a natural thing after you drink a 12-pack and
pick up your guitar [laughs]. It erases a few brain cells and you
can really get down to work.

Pitchfork: At first listen, a lot of your stuff seems wild and
improvised but there's something more as you dig deeper.

Noel Von Harmonson: It's always been clear to us that we're playing songs
because practice them, memorize them. But, if someone's experience is what
we're doing is so chaotic and bombastic that we're just freaking out the
whole time then that's fine, too. I like when I see bands and I think that,
whether it's true or not. It's pretty exciting to think, "These guys don't
even have songs!"

Pitchfork: What do you say to folks who suggest Comets have moved
toward being more accessible for commercial reasons on Avatar?

Ethan Miller: Take a listen to the record. Come on, do you think these
songs are going to be in Volkswagen commercials? What the fuck? It'd be
funny. I guess it's more accessible than a bunch of crazy fucking noise
with exploding guitars detuning and shit. The lowest common denominator is
a fairly ugly thing. Was it Miles Davis that talked about the tyranny of
popular taste? That's an awesome thing to say.

Utrillo Kushner: It felt like we had pressure to produce something that was
different or beyond Blue Cathedral. By default we fell into what
happened. It wasn't premeditated. We didn't walk in with a plan. We still
get wild. Avatar still has the Comets on Fire edge. We were even
discussing on Blue Cathedral having a song or two where the vocals
were less treated. We felt that might be even more experimental for us.

Ethan: The funny thing is, after it's all said and done, and the evidence
isn't there anymore about why someone made a piece of music, sometimes the
biggest piece of crap can seem good to you. Later on, without the trappings
of fame, you listen to it and it means something to you. Luckily, it's
complicated and things take on their own lives.

Pitchfork: Everyone in the band downplays their musicianship, except
maybe Chasny, who doesn't mention it at all.

Ben Flashman: I think everyone I play with is incredibly talented. Maybe
not in the musically book read variety but everyone has a fine tuned ear and
really listens to each other. More than knowing some insane chord
progression or writing down notes on the fly it's about listening with
us.

Pitchfork: This could fall apart very easily if you didn't listen so
intently.

Flashman: Not only could it but it does! Our shows range from extreme highs
to extreme lows.

Pitchfork: The single most common description of your music is
"psychedelic" but that doesn't seem exactly right.

Ethan: Before everyone starts using a certain word it has more mystery.
That term sounded much more archaic, fuller of darker, hidden meanings,
earlier. Now, it gets thrown around a whole lot. Sometimes it's valuable
in media to use simplistic words. If you get so unique in the way you
describe something it may be difficult for the general readership to decide
if they want to hear what's being described.

Pitchfork: You can only go so far with the complete chaos of the
Comets' first album. It seems like other elements would pop up over
time.

Flashman: We all have the fear of making the same record over & over again.
Even if it's a really good record the second or third one may not stand the
test of time 30, 40 or 50 years down the line.

Pitchfork: One noticeable difference on Avatar is the piano
jams like "Lucifer's Memory." Utrillo, you were more involved in the
songwriting this time, right?

Utrillo: It was a weird experiment. I had lyrics that I wrote on a piece of
paper that I sheepishly gave to Ethan. It's a bit of an ego thing. I
didn't realize it until I was actually passing him the demo with the lyrics
rubber banded to it. I wondered, "Is this right?" But it worked out okay.
I've had other things I thought would be cool to play with Comets but the
guys weren't having it.

Pitchfork: These keyboard heavy songs, both here and on Blue
Cathedral, have some very delicate moments, especially in the acoustic
guitar parts.

Chasny: I actually don't like it. It's Ethan's idea. I like to keep things
separate. I don't want to be the Six Organs [of Admittance] guy who brought
in a pretty melody. I did the acoustic moments on the records but always
under protest. I'm in Comets so I'd rather destroy but if you want this
pretty moment I'll give it to you!

Pitchfork: Comets appeal to brainy music geeks but you can also raise
a beer to it.

Noel: It has virtuoso elements that I guess appeases the academic heads but
it's just rock music. That's what it boils down to. We're not trying to do
anything that weird. We're just trying to make rock music exciting. Take
something like a soloing melody that Chasny plays, that's not conscious.
That's one of those things we do that we have internalized ideas about,
which is nice. We don't have to sit down and talk about every angle.
There's so much that's unspoken that happens naturally for us.

Pitchfork: Your music borders on the spiritual sometimes. There's an
intensity to it that's way more palpable than anything I've ever experienced
in a church.

Flashman: Absolutely. Obviously less so in the studio since it's more of a
live thing. For me, live, there's no link between my fingers and my brain.
It's my fingers and some other vital organ.

Pitchfork: Do you ever find yourself disoriented in the middle of the
Comets' maelstrom?

Noel: Totally. Usually every time. That's just become a kind of goal for me
every time we play live. I loosen up with alcohol or whatever to make
myself vulnerable to that disorientation. Once I open myself up the music
can flow through me and I can flow through the music [laughs].

Pitchfork: Is the band in the same room together when you record?

Ethan: Oh yeah. It's something I don't think I'd ever give up. If Rick
Rubin is producing you at the Record Plant they're going to put you in an
isolation booth. If someone is spending millions of dollars on your record
they demand it. But, I don't see how people ever nailed a great take
without looking each other in the eye. Being right there is a whole
different ballgame of communication. If you can feel the wind coming up
from the cymbal hits and smell the next guy's beer breath and sweat, well,
you get a lot of energy together. We pile the amps up around Utrillo and
stand over him and wail it out.

Pitchfork: No matter how weird your music gets it's still clearly the
fruits of a rock band.

Ethan: Comets doesn't want to make absolutely inside-out, deconstructed
stuff. It's rooted in certain foundations of pop & rock music in a desire
to please. For certain members, at times, that desire to make pleasing
music on some level is really rewarding and sometimes it disgusts them.

Pitchfork: I think rock is largely very small these days. A lot of
bands getting attention write very bedroom journal stuff. Music culture
reflects the self-help obsessed mindset of the modern age. Most music seems
to be afraid to get up on mountaintops like say Led Zeppelin used to.
Comets on Fire feel similarly fearless to me.

Noel: I think that playing on the mountain thing is most obvious in the live
setting. We're trying to make it fun for people and create this experience
where things cut loose. We're interested in playing big and loud, getting
everybody to feel something. We felt that one of the things lacking from
many live shows was some kind of experience that wasn't just an awareness of
how troubled the singer is, where you're supposed to get on the leash of
some dude's neuroses. Feeling sympathy for someone you're watching play is
a weird thing. We're not going for that. We're not looking for people's
sympathy. We want to fuckin' have a good time. When we hit the stage,
we're swinging our guitars around our necks and punching the air. It's got
to be a mind fuck for someone who's read reviews that say we've mellowed!